Winners and Losers

Grandpa is a winner for taking grandkids fishing at 5:00 AM on Labor Day.

Bethany and Faith on Mill Hollow Reservoir.

I was a winner for taking Cannon and George to the zoo while the kids were fishing.

I'm sorry to call my kid a loser, but Cannon was a loser for having a major pouting fit because I wouldn't buy him an animal shaped water bottle at the zoo.  I quote Cannon, "The only way I will be happy again is if you buy it for me."
Sorry kiddo, it's okay with me if you're sad for a while.

Abe is a winner for taking Clark, Beth, and Els to the BYU game on Saturday.  My Aunt gave us four tickets at the last minute and we jumped at the chance to go.

Clark and Bethany are winners for having a moment of peace together and sharing a slurpee at the game.  
The BYU football team is a winner because they won their game. 

And it was good to cheer for a winner, because sadly, Clark was a loser at his football game earlier in the day on Saturday.  And it wasn't even sort of close.  It was a blowout.  The kind of game that is painful for even a mother who doesn't really care about winning or losing to watch.

This dog is a loser.  Or rather its owners are losers.  Could it possibly be that my children are losers?  You be the judge.
I don't know whose dog it is, but it was wandering the neighborhood the other day and the kids were playing with it.  They named it Hunter, but then changed its name to Charlie.  Forty-five minutes was long enough for the seed of hope to sprout. The hope that perhaps Charlie had no home and Mom and Dad might let them keep him.
As you can see from the picture their wish was denied and the tears flowed freely. 

Clark is a winner for being uninhibited and enjoying an evening of vintage dancing with his friends.
His mom is a loser for embarrassing him by posting pictures for the world to see.

Georgie is a winner because he's two and its unacceptable to call your two year old a loser under any circumstance.  But he's got more in common with Clark than just the uniform.  I haven't encountered toddler tantrums like George's since the days of Clark's toddler tantrums.  I am afraid.  And I'm tired, but mostly afraid.

And now I will toot my own horn.  This is me at Clark's football game after I did my 20 mile training run yesterday.  I did it in just over 4 hours (great for me!) and I could still walk.  Surprisingly, this run was harder mentally than physically.  Today my body feels tired, but I'm not in any pain.  But mentally I feel completely used up.  It took a lot of mental energy to talk myself through 20 miles.

 In the first 10 miles I had moments of fear and panic.  I got concerned that if I wasn't feeling great at mile 9, how was I possibly going to make it to mile 18, 19, and 20.  I would tell myself I was going to complete this run, but I couldn't let myself think about the end of the run.  I had to focus on the "right now".  I told myself to just think about this mile I'm on right now.  Just keep going.  I did that for long enough and eventually I did finish.  Right now this is a good metaphor for me.  Don't panic about things, just keep going and trying and doing my best and eventually I'll make it through.

Don't you just love sports metaphors?

For the next three weeks I'll taper down my running and not go anywhere near as far as I have the last few weeks.   My training is pretty much done.
When I finished the half-marathon back in March I realized that the real accomplishment wasn't running the race as much as completing the training.  The training is long and lonely at times.  The training is the hard work.  The race is really the reward for doing the training.  I am feeling pretty proud of myself that I have diligently done my training and am now anxious for the big day.  I am glad that I have a bit of time to physically and mentally recover from these long training runs.